


The Lethality of a Man With a Plan

by Detective_Inspector_Hotdish



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Case Fic, F/M, First Time, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-07-20 06:08:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 19,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16131245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Detective_Inspector_Hotdish/pseuds/Detective_Inspector_Hotdish
Summary: It all started with a knife in the back, leading to intrigue, cuff links, and some fancy new lingerie.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Long time MFMM viewer and fanfic reader, but first time writer in this fandom. Occurs midway through season 3, after they decided they would “make do” with each other. Hugh’s fishing trip was a mistake, let’s forget about all his Murray cod

The bright afternoon sunlight of a warm February day graced the streets of Melbourne. Shoppers hustled down the sidewalks, laden with packages. A variety of vehicles, both automotive and horse drawn filled the streets, creating a busy, but overall pleasant atmosphere.

Unfortunately, the sunny pleasantness of this late summer day didn’t reach all of Melbourne. Specifically, a long, dark alleyway off of an otherwise nondescript street where the relative silence was broken by a series of screams that became increasingly affected by gurgling, thanks to the knife that was protruding from its victims back.

Gradually, the screaming stopped, and silence ruled the alley, until it was again broken by the sound of a pair of stomping feet in police-issue footwear and the huffing and puffing of a fairly out of shape constable. The inspector and his constables looked up from the body as they heard a familiar clicking of heels on the sidewalk, fast approaching their position in the alleyway.

The inspector slowly stepped towards the elegantly dressed lady and addressed her with a note of curiosity; “Your response to this crime scene was fast, even for you, and there wasn’t even the warning roar of your Hispano-Suiza. What was it this time? You had a planned tea with the victim? Old friends? Communist spies? A clue on the wireless?” A sly smile slowly appeared on her red lips “Nothing as dull as all that, Inspector. A delightful lingerie shop just opened up two doors down and I was having a fitting when the crime occurred. I was in the most indecent garment when I heard the scream, otherwise I would have been here earlier. I imagine that Constable I saw huffing this way would have been far less understanding regarding my level of dress than I hope you’ll be”.

The only clue that her words had any affect on the inspector was a slight flush on the tips of his ears, and a quick clearing of his throat as he turned towards the two constables, motioning for the older, slightly portly man to step forward. “Yes. Well. “That constable” is constable Barnhill. He transferred to City South from Wodonga, hoping for a change of scenery, and by looks of this alleyway, it seems he found it”.

Holding out a calling card to the Constable, she greeted him with a cheery “I’m sure we’ll be meeting like this again! Phryne Fisher, detective”. Officer Barnhill, while new to City South, was well aware of Miss Fisher’s reputation, thanks to a night at the pub near his boarding house, courtesy of a few fellow officers the previous evening. He had heard that she was good at what she did, but excelled at making a nuisance of herself all the same. A friendly nuisance that kept much of the station well fed, both in terms of keeping their bellies full and the gossip they all shared regarding her odd relationship with a certain Detective Inspector.

No matter what he already knew about her, he read her calling card aloud while reaching out to shake her hand. “The Honorable Phryne Fisher”, eh? Your sort don’t come ‘round scenes like this up in Wodonga nearly enough!”. She replied with a wink, “Well, should I ever find myself in Wodonga, I intend to show them the joys of investigating”.

She sidled up alongside Jack, raised her lips a mere breath from his ear, and in a low whisper said “But for you Jack, my intentions are most dishonorable”.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not much in the way of solving a murder, but perhaps progress towards the boudoir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta’d, apologies for any errors.

In the two weeks that had followed the Salvatore case, Phryne and Jack had begun to navigate the beginnings of whatever this was; more than friends, more than partners, but not quite lovers. Yet.

Jack no longer needed the excuse of a post-case nightcap to share a drink in the comfort of Phryne’s parlor, and indeed, he could be found there most evenings. After arriving at the realization that they could, and indeed should “make do” with each other, they had agreed to take their developing relationship slowly. It was far slower than she was accustomed to, but somehow the importance of what they were creating together had made this the lightest burden to bear.

The choice to take things slowly didn’t mean, however, that they had had been sitting stiffly, keeping hands and mouths to themselves. There had been many evenings in her parlor where it had taken every ounce of strength on both their parts to separate their mouths from each other and calm themselves. Hands wandered in discovery, lips traveled, and gasps and moans filled each other’s ears. 

They both knew what destination lay down this road they traveled, and it filled them both with excitement and nervousness (which upon recognizing in herself, had filled Phryne with both shock and a certain degree of tenderness towards her Inspector). Phryne was familiar with her body: with her wants, and with her needs, and had the graceful confidence to lead a lover to bring out the greatest amount of joy she could experience. 

Jack, having been married to a partner who hadn’t always been cold and distant, knew many of the ways he could induce the joy he knew Phryne sought. He imagined so many of the ways that they would come together as one, and he felt as though if their relationship was not consummated in the near future, he himself would be consumed with the fire that was building inside of him. 

Sitting in his car outside of Wardlow after a long day at City South attempting to shed some light on today’s stabbing, Jack mentally and physically steeled himself for what the rest of the evening would bring. Most assuredly there would be a delicious dinner prepared by Mr. Butler, along with some sweet confection that he would barely be able to taste for the excitement building up inside of himself, eager to move the proceedings into the parlor.

Whiskey and discussion of the murder they both sought to solve, perhaps a seat at the piano bench with Phryne up close and personal, musically voicing the desire to misbehave. Draughts? Poetry on the chaise? What next? A steamy encounter that he would barely be able to tear himself away from, or would tonight be when he would finally give in to what they both desired?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do they make it upstairs? Do they give up and give in?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A feast, a flame, and an investigation begins.

If there was ever a dinner where Mr. Butler had outdone himself, this would be it. There was nothing the man did that wasn’t impeccable, but somehow everything this evening tasted better, the candles lit the room more romantically, every gentle note of music from the gramophone sounded sweeter. Mr. Butler wasn’t just an excellent cook, or a servant whose discretion knew no bounds; he was a master of ambience. 

As the man himself quietly let himself out the kitchen door, he knew that no matter how masterful his hand had been in creating this evening, he couldn’t take full credit. He had been watching carefully as his Miss grew ever so closer to the Inspector, seeing as the light in her eyes changed from joyful flirtatiousness to pure adoration. He knew that the two of them had found themselves at the precipice of something great and only needed a slight nudge before they plummeted. He deeply hoped that tonight would be enough of a nudge, after all they saw and dealt with every day, the happiness they brought each other was much needed. 

Mr. Butler had no intentions of re-entering Wardlow until morning, fortunately, the life of a manservant and his former life in the military had given him numerous contacts in Melbourne and beyond, and a night at the theater and a well-aged scotch in a simple hotel sounded like the perfect evening. Mr. Butler rarely relaxed, but knowing that the couple’s privacy was almost guaranteed allowed himself a rare moment to let himself rest. When Mr. Butler had been informed of the Inspector coming for dinner, he had gently pulled Miss Williams aside and suggested that perhaps an evening helping her mother with the mending might be in order; a suggestion that Dot had quickly seen through but had the grace not to mention. 

During their sumptuous candlelit dinner (of herb-roasted chicken, sweet peas in a delicate mint sauce, followed by Peach Melba), conversation had been light; discussing the newest release by Dorothy Sayers and how Jane was excelling in her classes. The closest they strayed towards talking about their latest case was a humorous anecdote that Jack shared about a slight mishap involving the station tea urn and a stray cat. As their laughter died down, Phryne gestured across the hall, into her parlor. Jack took his usual starting point at the mantel while Phryne poured them each a generous lowball glass of whiskey and they moved to both sit on the chaise, close but not quite touching.

“So”, Phryne started “Has any identification been made as to our stabbing victim this morning?”. Jack harrumphed in response “No. The scene was remarkably devoid of anything helpful. No identification on our victim, no jewelry or keys, and even his face was really quite ordinary. It’s not just him we’ll have trouble identifying; the knife handle had been wiped clean and with the exception of one single bootprint that couldn’t be matched to the victim or ourselves, we have virtually nothing to go on. We can only hope something more substantial is found at autopsy or we may be at a standstill”. 

Phryne shrugged “I have every ounce of faith in our skills. There’s a lead somewhere, and we’ll find it. In the mean time, Inspector, I have a lead for you to follow up on”. Jack raised his whiskey to his lips and peered into her eyes over the glass.

“Do you remember where I said I was this morning? While the seamstress is producing some absolutely alluring garments for me, I did purchase some rather daring prêt-à-porter pieces while I was there. I was hoping that perhaps you could share your opinion of them?”. Jack swallowed deeply and hoped the nervousness he felt wasn’t as visible as his desire for her. “You know me too well Miss Fisher, I’m always willing to assist you in any... investigation”. Jack slid slightly closer to Phryne, their thighs touching, his hands reached towards her and he slowly brushed his finger tips along her neck and exposed shoulders, slightly dipping under the navy blue lace of her dress straps.

As his finger tips stroked down her arms, she shivered. “Are you cold, Miss Fisher? Perhaps I should start a fire for you?”. Her smoldering eyes met his, and in a voice thick with desire she replied “I’m anything but, dear Jack. I feel as though you’ve already started one, flickering inside me. Her red lips drifted towards his, and after a gentle brush against his mouth, she murmured “Help me fan the flames”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their greatest investigation is just beginning...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, together in every way.

The Lethality of a Man With a Plan  
Ch 4

“Help me fan the flames”.

Jack raised his hand to cup her jaw and turned her face towards his, and when he looked in her eyes and saw the fire in them, it ignited his own flames inside. His kisses started slowly and gently, but gradually increased in intensity. He opened his mouth slightly and tasted her lips. Whiskey, lipstick wax, and something indefinably Phryne rushed to the pleasure centres of his brain. His quiet moan snapped her to attention, and she opened her mouth to give his tongue the admittance into her mouth that they both desired.

Phryne placed her right hand over Jack’s heart and she could feel its strong and steady beat. Her left hand grasped his jacket collar and began pushing it off his shoulders, a feat that he soon assisted in. They both needed to feel as much skin as they possibly could and soon Phryne found her hands busily unbuttoning his waistcoat, and then unknotting his tie. While Phryne’s hands were working, Jack found one hand grasping her hip and the other softly caressing her breasts. Despite the presence of her aforementioned prêt à porter undergarments, he felt her nipples hardening in response to his ministrations.

A gentle gasp from Phyrne resulted in his fondling of her breasts becoming stronger, and his lips beginning a journey to her neck. He sucked and nibbled and felt her pulse thrumming under her lips, and with every beat he felt himself grow harder. Jack was able to calm himself enough to pull away slightly and rested his forehead against hers, murmuring “I appreciate the privacy that your household has given us, but I think we’ll be so much more comfortable in your boudoir”.

Phryne held his hands in her own and stood, walking slowly towards the stairs. She paused and looked into his before averting them, suddenly appearing very interested in the Margaret Preston painting on the parlor wall. “Jack, I want you to know, before we do this, that it does mean something to me. You aren’t just another man, there can’t ever be another... you’re everything to me”. When she glanced back, he saw her eyes glistening, tears threatening to overflow. “Phryne” he said, “I would never try to tether you to me... to cage you, or to hold you back. I’ve loved you for so long, well before it was appropriate to do so. I’ll take whatever love you can give, and navigate through whatever faces us with your leading hand. I’ll give you as many head starts as you need, but always close enough to catch you if you fall”. 

Finally, a single tear trickled down her cheeks, which Jack wipes away and replaced with a kiss. “Now, let me love you.” He whispered as his lips brushed hers again “I have immortal longings in me... The juice of Egypt’s grape shall moist this lip”. 

Phryne presses herself against him fully, feeling his warm strength and desire. She grasped his hand, and they slowly made their way upstairs, stopping only when Jack would press a tender kiss upon her bare shoulder. 

When they entered her boudoir, what had been a slow, smoldering fire, suddenly flared into an inferno. Hands became busy, shoving clothing out of the way hastily and snapping buttons and clasps when it wasn’t quite fast enough. Gasps begat moans, touches begat desperate grasps. Phryne gently pushed a nude Jack back, and his eyes traveled up from the tips of her painted toes to her lips, the lipstick kissed off. In between point A and point B was the most sensual garment Jack had seen. This had certainly changed since he was married, even since he had last seen a woman in lingerie at the Imperial Club. 

Intricate blush lace against her alabaster skin, with matching satin covering the bare minimum of her body. He somehow found the strength to comment “This is by far the most lethal garment I have ever laid eyes on, and were I not such a desperate man, I would investigate it more fully. Please, take it off”. His only answer was a smirk and glittering eyes. “Phryne please”. She continued to smirk, but began unlacing ribbons and unhooking unseen clasps, and the garment slid to the floor. She stood before him like a marble statue of a goddess, carved to perfection, angles led to curves and those curves led to mysteries he longed to solved. 

Jack snaked an arm around her waist and lifted her, carrying her over to her bed before laying her down atop the decadent bedding. He knelt between her spread legs, and traced a single finger though the triangle of hair where her legs met, encountering her drenched heat. He drew the fingertip to his mouth and licked it while staring into her eyes. As her taste exploded on his tongue, a groan of desire emanated from somewhere deep inside him and he felt himself grow impossibly harder.

Phryne watched as Jack slowly lowered himself to her centre, licking in long upward strokes. He pushed two fingers deep inside of her, and began circling his tongue around her clit, occasionally sucking on it. He used her moans and gasps to guide him to the places where she found the greatest pleasure, and it was not long until she found herself bucking against his mouth and gasping his name, his fingers feeling the clenching of her innermost muscles. 

As she recovered from her peak, Jack licked his way up to her small, but perfectly shaped breasts and began suckling on the nipple of one while kneading the other with his large hands. He lifted his head from her body and in a husky, desire filled voice “What can I do for you to make it good? What to you need?” and resumed his suckling, kneading, and nibbling of her flesh. 

“Jaaaaaaack”, Phryne moaned “I want you. I want you any way and every way, I want you in me and around me, I want you to surround all that is me with all that is you, fly with me and come apart with me. Everything I want, I want it to begin now”. Jack moved up the bed and sat up with his back resting against the headboard. He used his index and middle finger to motion for her to come forward, and she moved to straddle him. Jack didn’t want to break the moment, but asked her gently “Protection?”. Surprisingly, he saw Phryne blush slightly as she replied “Always Jack, for so long. I’ve had hopes and wanted to be ready for you”. A chuckle slipped out of Jack “I love a woman with a plan”.

They looked into each other’s eye and Phryne whispered “I love you, Jack. I never thought I’d say that to any man, but I love you so much. I never want this to end”. She then slid onto him until he was fully, deeply embedded in her. “God, Phryne!” he moaned as he grasped her hips and began to move her up and down upon him. Their movements became more frenzied, losing their rhythm and focusing solely on giving the other the greatest amount of pleasure possible. 

Moans of pleasure were now becoming punctuated by curses; some gasped out and some groaned, some sobbed out loudly. They cried out the joy they were racing towards, a place where time had no meaning. They could have been making love for mere minutes or an hour, time seemed to dilate and contract around them, and everything began to take on a dreamy quality. Jack could feel Phryne trembling in his arms and she cried out “Fuck, Jack! Fuck! I’m so close!”. 

He was balanced on a knife’s edge, ready to be cut to the core and began murmuring “Come for me Phryne, come now and bring me with you... show me, beautiful... show me your glory”. At those words, he felt her clamping around him, a silken vise that felt better than anything he had ever experienced. He couldn’t hold back any longer and poured himself into her, with an animalistic groan ripping through his throat. 

The collapsed into the bedding, clutching each other in their somnolence.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A major step forward, and no trouble to be seen... yet.

The Lethality of a Man With a Plan  
Ch 5

Rays of broken sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, waking the boudoir’s male occupant. He glanced over at his newly consecrated lover, nude in the early morning light, curled up next to him. Her obsidian hair had fallen over her face and he tenderly brushed it aside.

“Jack?” she whispered, as her eyelids cracked open slightly “Thank God. I’ve had some amazing dreams in the past and woke up shattered with disappointment, you can’t imagine how wonderful it is to see you here and know my dreams have come true”. Jack tilted his head slightly and replied “Miss Fisher, I believe that I know exactly how you feel”. As Phryne sat up slightly, she ran a hand down Jack’s arm, from his shoulder to his hand, and grasped it tightly.

“Miss Fisher still? I would think that after last night...”, her voice sounded serious, but there was a playful glint in her eyes. Jack brought their conjoined hands to his mouth and placed a delicate kiss upon her hand and in a sensually lower voice than he normally used (typically relegated to performances as a radio news announcer) rumbled “Phryne, you will always be my Miss Fisher, no matter what happens between us. However, you are right, and perhaps I should endeavor to use that title only in our while working with you. Don’t expect me to suddenly change, I imagine that the recesses of my mind and mouth are quite accustomed to calling you Miss Fisher”.

The glint in her eyes only sparkled more strongly in response to his protestations. “You said some things last night that I hope your mind and mouth also become accustomed to saying”. The Jack Robinson of old, hell... even the Jack Robinson of this time yesterday would quite probably have blushed. This new Jack Robinson simply leaned over his lover and whispered “Well, we should practice as often as possible then, shouldn’t we?”. Phryne chuckled as she slid across the silk bedding, closer to her prize “We aren’t expected to check in with Mac to review the autopsy findings until at least noon. I can think of quite a few ways we could occupy our time until then and perhaps even burn something new into your mind”.

They rolled into each other on the bed, far too occupied in their own activities to hear the household’s other occupants returning from their night away. As for the returnees? Despite the slight embarrassment she felt, Dot smiled to herself, knowing that Miss Phryne’s houseguest would likely be a more frequent night time visitor. She really did like Inspector Robinson, he was a good man and had taught Hugh so much. 

As soon as he spied the Inspector’s fedora and coat hanging in the entryway, Mr. Butler began planning breakfasts for the inspector; Miss Fisher wasn’t a morning person so he had fallen slightly out of practice with his breakfast foods. Maybe crepes? Or perhaps a quiche? Cheese omelettes would do for this morning, but he was looking forward to re-expanding his cooking repertoire. 

Around ten O’clock, the needs of their bodies could no longer be put off. While Phryne was in the bathroom freshening up, Jack realized that he would most likely be wearing yesterday’s suit. He had, with his heart in his throat but full of hope regardless, packed a valise with a change of smalls, socks, button-down shirt, and tie, along with his brand of pomade, shaving razor, and toothbrush. However, not wanting to appear too forward, he had left the bag in his automobile. Things had moved so quickly after that and he hadn’t wanted to break the mood by walking out the door to retrieve his belongings. 

He hadn’t seen Mac yesterday, so she would probably be unaware of the status of his clothing, but Hugh? Hugh had started out as a naïve, wet behind the ears pup, but his growth over the last year had sharpened his investigative skills. He might still be a little too bashful, but not many things slipped past him now. Notice he would, and comment he might... unless Miss Williams had reported their assignation to her beau already. He supposed he would tell by how red his constable’s cheeks became and how badly he stuttered when he met with him later. 

Shaking off his thoughts, Jack looked up towards the entrance to the boudoir and tilted his head slightly. Was that his valise? It was, and with a note resting on it in an unfamiliar script.

“Inspector Robinson, 

I hope you do not find this to be an inappropriate act, however I noted that your valise was in your automobile as I returned this morning. I took the liberty of removing it for you as I believe you will be in need of its contents. 

I am available if anything further is needed,

Mr. T Butler”

 

Jack supposed that he should feel as though his privacy had somehow been invaded, and embarrassed that Mr. Butler had quite clearly been in the room while they had been sleeping au naturel. He felt neither of these things; Mr. Butler was discreet and virtually omniscient. He would never belittle his employer or her lover and would never use information gleaned while in her employ for anything other then to make their lives easier. It was quite a good feeling to know that Mr. Butler was in his court, he would have become quite lean if he had lost the butler’s good opinion.

When Phryne exited the bathroom and it was Jack’s turn, he leaned down to her and muttered “You really need to give Mr. Butler a raise, that man is a godsend”. Phryne chuckled in response, she already knew that as much as she tried, there would never be enough money in the world to show Mr. Butler (and all her household staff, truly) how much they meant to her. 

After a late breakfast in the kitchen, Phryne started to move toward the back door. Jack’s eyebrows knit together in confusion “Miss- Phryne? I thought perhaps we could ride together in my auto?”. Not many things surprised The Honorable Phryne Fisher, but the fact that Jack wanted to be seen with her, quite possibly as a couple, so soon, did the job. She turned towards him and jokingly replied “Are we going to hold hands as well?”. Not willing to back down from his lover quite yet, he winked and replied “If you like. I may even kiss you”.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Autopsies, biscuits, and a knife: A recipe for murder

“As you can see here, the stab wound to the victim’s upper back was ultimately what killed him. Hemothorax, nasty business; he wouldn’t have died immediately, basically drowned in his blood. He has these other wounds here and there, most likely defensive wounds, and this last wound here. It’s not nearly as deep as the fatal one, perhaps the killer hesitated. I see them a lot in bar fights and crimes of opportunity. I don’t think you two are looking for an experienced killer”. 

Dr. Elizabeth McMillan’s opinion as coroner could always be counted on as clear, concise, and most importantly factual. The inspector had hopes that this crime may have been a one-off. A fight between friends that turned suddenly turned fatal, a mugging that went too far... perhaps this might be something fairly easy to solve. 

Maybe the perpetrator would feel guilty and confess, hoping that a confession to an unplanned crime might avoid the noose. A report might come in soon about a missing person matching the victim’s description. “Anything that might help us narrow down his identity, Doctor?”, the Inspector asked. Mac shook her head “He was very average; average height, average weight. Maybe as old as forty? No unusual scarring or anything that would indicate a recent surgery. I wish I had more for you, but it is what it is”.

As Phryne and Jack drove to City South police station, Phryne leaned towards Jack and pointed out “I believe that I had been told that there was a possibility of kisses today?”. Jack chuckled as he pulled up to the curb and put the auto into park, grasped Miss Fisher’s chin gently to turn her head towards his, and gave her such a passion-filled kiss that had she been standing, her knees surely would have buckled. He didn’t care that the constabulary and the world at large could see him, it bothered him not one whit. If someone knew they were together, then so be it.

Unfortunately, Hugh had no luck in identifying the dead man. He hadn’t been carrying any identification and out of the two missing persons reports, neither matched; unless their victim was secretly a teenage girl or an aboriginal male, they were out of luck. As the Detective Inspector walked through the doorway with Miss Fisher, he stood straighter and greeted them, wondering how it came to be that they had both arrived at the same time. He hadn’t hear Miss Fisher’s auto arrive and... he stopped that awkward train of thought immediately and filed it away to address later, for when he took Dottie for a walk on the foreshore. Maybe she would know what was going on.

Inspector Robinson felt some relief that he had been spared an encounter with a stammering Collins. Obviously, he would have to tell the young man soon, but he would prefer to do it himself. Perhaps he could take the younger man out to a pub when they were off duty; he didn’t fraternize with his men, but he felt as though his relationship with Collins was different, if the lad needed a male figure to look up to, Jack was coming around to the idea of it being him. 

The Inspector and Miss Fisher spent a good part of the afternoon reviewing witness statements and photographs of the crime scene, hoping a clue would reveal itself. Posters showing the victim were currently being hung at a few of the city’s rowdier pubs in hopes of someone recognizing him. Unless the guilty party appeared, it was likely going to be their only shot at solving the case.

Realizing that they had missed tea, Jack removed his biscuit stash from his desk and held the tin out towards Phryne. She nabbed one of the treats and then appeared to second guess herself as he began pulling away the tin. She quickly snapped up a second biscuit and shrugged “I think I’ll need all the energy I can get tonight”. Jack inhaled a few crumbs at that, and began a coughing spell that concealed the sounds of the telephone ringing in the station lobby and Collins answering. 

“Sir!” came the Constable’s voice through the office door that they had left open a crack “There’s been another stabbing, this time at the Botanical Garden. They said they don’t know if it’s connected to the one we’re working, but figured you might as well check it out”. Jack and Phryne both stood and made their way out the door, both hoping that if the cases were connected, this one would bear more clues.


	7. Chapter 7

A man lay on the grass, the Yarra River within view and sun beams breaking through the trees. If it wasn’t for the large amount of blood and the knife in his back, it would have been quite picturesque. 

Constable Alfred “Alfie” Barnhill stood over the body, a freshly issued notepad and pencil in hand. He looked at the three approaching crime fighters, D.I. Robinson and Miss Fisher rapidly approaching, with Hugh Collins attempting to catch up while writing in his own, battered notepad. Barnhill looked up and reported “Seems like they been at it again, Sir. Knife looks to be wiped clean and there doesn’t seem to be any evidence in the grass ‘round here”. 

Inspector Robinson put one hand on his hip and pinched the bridge of his nose with the other. It was looking like their hopes for a simple and straightforward murder case were spiraling down the drain. 

The Inspector looked at the two constables and barked “Collins, you get started on witness statements and Barnhill keep any onlookers away. I know you combed the scene for evidence, but until we can get a second pass through, I’d hate for curiosity to trample something important”. Both men acknowledged their directives, and got to work. 

Miss Fisher crouched down next to the newest body; Male, slightly older and tougher looking than the first victim, but again, so very average in every respect. His right hand was heavily calloused and had several deep lacerations on the palm that had begun to heal, so quite possibly they would need to show his picture around the docks and local factories. He appeared to be wearing a very new suit and while it wasn’t by any means an expensive looking garment, it was nice enough that most men in manual labor wouldn’t have been able to afford it. 

A closer look revealed a tear on the sleeve of his right arm and a conspicuous lack of a cuff link. Phryne motioned to Jack to crouch down next to her and whispered “I’d like to see his left arm, but he’s lying on it. Once the photographer is done, I want to see if my theory is correct”. Fortunately, said police photographer arrived shortly after and was able to complete his work rapidly. 

Before the morgue staff arrived to remove the body’s Jack assisted Phryne in pulling the victim’s left arm out from underneath his body and she again noted a torn sleeve and no cuff link. “Jack, tell me what you think of this: A brand new suit and cuff links that were nice enough to steal on a man who doesn’t look like he’s able to afford much beyond a nightly pub bill and a bedsit”. Jack mulled it over for a moment “Recently came into money? Won at the race track? A dead relative?”. Miss Fisher smiled and replied “Or, a criminal payoff”.


	8. Chapter 8

A matchbox, a cigarette tin, a single unmarked key, and a crumpled purchase slip were the nameless victim’s only known worldly possessions. Most of the items offered nothing to the the Inspector and Miss Fisher, but the purchase slip? At least the slip had a name, and a mention of the conspicuously absent pair of men’s jewelry. 

“1 pr opl/slvr cflnk   
Pd in full   
M Hagen, Jeweler”

The trip to the morgue had been just as beneficial as the Inspector had guessed it would be: Death was caused by the stab wound to the back. There were no other wounds besides the fatal one, which had been caused by a stiletto knife; different from the first murder weapon, a serrated knife, but that in itself wasn’t enough to disassociate the crimes from each other. That was where the clues ended, every other answer to their questions was, unfortunately “Average”. Again. 

He approached Miss Fisher outside of the morgue and suggested a trip to Hagen’s Jewelry Store. “Why Jack, we’ve only just begun seeing each other!” she said with a smirk. Her smirk was met by a smile that try as he might, Jack was not able to fully conceal. “Phryne, while I often feel quite foolish when I am near you, I have not quite reached the level of bravery that I would need to propose marriage”. 

She turned towards him and met his eyes, her red lips forming the words “The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool”. He really shouldn’t have been surprised, knowing her as well as he did, but he still did a double take at his lover “Since when do you quote Shakespeare? Should I perhaps be quoting D.H. Lawrence?”. Phryne just smiled and walked to the car.

Marcus Hagen turned out to be the lead they had been waiting for. A dapper, well-dressed man in his late 30’s, he kept meticulous records of all his sales. He had, just yesterday, sold a stylish pair of silver cufflinks inlaid with opal to a Mr. James Thompson. He even had record of Thompson’s address, a piece of information that almost had the Inspector applauding. As the Inspector and Miss Fisher made their way to the door, he caught her in his periphery, glancing down at a cabinet of ladies rings.

James Thompson, as Phryne has initially assumed, did live in a bedsit. It was on the third floor of a building that had certainly seen better days, likely when Victoria still is ruled the realm. The shared bathroom was clearly of no help, but when they entered Thompson’s home, they quickly learned two things: He was a fan of sly grog, evidenced by both the odor surrounding them and the numerous bottles littered about. They also learned that something bad, something most likely lethal, had happened very near to, or because of Mr. Thompson.

A waistcoat and button down shirt sat on top of a rubbish bin, both appeared to have been thoroughly soaked in blood, which had dried stiffly. Sticking out of the waistcoat pocket was a slip of bloodstained paper, Miss Fisher read the scrap, her eyebrows raising in surprise as she passed it to the Inspector. What it contained was the name “Edward Davis” and the exact date, the exact time, and the exact place that the first murder had occurred.

Their hopes of a clue that would help lead to the solving of the murders had only led to more questions.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandwiches and smut!

After bagging the bloodied evidence found in James Thompson’s bedsit, returning to the station to file the requisite paperwork, and dealing with a runaway six-year old who turned up at the station after he ran out of his biscuit provisions, Jack finally found himself free for the evening.

Phryne had returned home hours earlier, ostensibly to “freshen up”. Jack had known that the moment the word “paperwork” came out of his mouth, she would find any way to avoid it, and so she had. Jack had been feeling restless since she had left, although it took him two cups of tea and a walk around the block before he figured out the cause.

He was, for lack of a better word, horny. No, that wasn’t quite right... horny was the best word to describe the lecherous feelings that had been tickling the back of his brain and crawling under his skin for hours. He wanted- no, he needed Phryne, and as delightful as it had been to experience all that was she in her domain, he felt as though he needed to share his pleasure with her in his own home, sharing the last bit of his private life that she had not yet uncovered.

The Inspector picked up the phone on his desk and put a call in to Wardlow, waiting patiently for his lover to come to the phone. “Phryne”, his voice raspy with desire that he was positive she had to have felt through the phone line “I would like to have you over for dinner tonight, perhaps a nightcap as well? I assume you know the address” he chuckled. Her reply began with a most unladylike (and yet quite endearing) snort “Jack, imagine how disappointed you’d be if I didn’t know!”. He had to admit that she was, as usual, correct in her assumptions. There was no doubt in his mind that she had known where he lived even before the murder on her journey to Ballarat. 

Jack’s house was, of course, quite meticulously kept. Well-tended flowers peeked out from window boxes and a bold Grevillea bloomed beside the walk. They were all familiar sights to Phryne Fisher, as it had become her habit to drive past the Inspector’s home often during their brief, albeit painful, separation. She had told herself that she was just making sure that he was alright, but she knew that even the anonymous and distant contact was like a security blanket.

Before Phryne could knock on the door, Jack opened it, wearing his trousers,shirt, and braces. Seeing him without his customary additional layers was more an aphrodisiac than oysters could ever hope to be. The strain of keeping her hands to herself was quite overwhelming, but she managed to accomplish her task while asking Jack what he planned for dinner. He was obviously as affected by his desire as she was and barely was able to respond with “Sandwiches. Nothing too grand, it was more the company I was looking forward too than the meal”. 

One would never guess that the word “sandwiches” could cause an affect as what was seen in the doorway of one Inspector J Robinson’s home, and yet the word had caused the home’s female visitor to inelegantly launch herself towards her lover. “Jack, I would hate to think you went to an inordinate amount of trouble to prepare a meal, only to have it spoil on the stove as I have my way with you. Sandwiches will keep in the icebox, my hunger for you is far greater than my need for food”.

Jack’s bedroom was at the back of the house, and while it was a small home, the distance to his bed now seemed insurmountable. Fortunately, he had a cozy parlor right off the entryway, filled with a large, comfortable sofa. That room would suit their immediate needs perfectly, and so, without preamble, he lifted Phryne over his shoulders and carried her into the parlor.

A warm fire had been lit earlier, casting a romantic glow that flickered through the room. He set Phryne on the sofa gently, and pushed his braces of his shoulders as Phryne toed her shoes off. As she stood to remove her black wool slacks (while Jack found her beautiful in any garment, there was something about the modernity of slacks that he found alluring) he quickly unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it onto the upright piano behind him. Phryne’s slacks and blouse quickly joined Jack’s shirt and she stood before him in a black, lace-edged camisole and matching knickers.

He sat on the sofa, facing Phryne, and slowly raised her camisole. Each inch of skin he uncovered was greeted by sweet kisses, until he had fully unveiled her upper half. Jack traced the lace trim at the top of her knickers with a finger tip, enjoying the small gasp she released as his fingers began drawing her knickers lower and lower. The only assistance he allowed her to provide was stepping out of this last remaining article of clothing. As she stood before him, fully nude, he sat in awe of her beauty, intelligence, and the love her shared with her. Unable to hold back any longer, he pulled her down to straddle his lap, only his trousers and smalls separating her sweet, wet heat from his hardness. 

He suddenly realized that he hadn’t yet kissed her lips, a problem he set to immediately rectify. Their lips parted and tongues met and Jack thrust his hips upward and reveled in her moans and the moisture that had begun seeping into his trousers. As his kisses traveled down her neck, his hands traveled upwards towards her breasts, groping her on just the right side of too rough. Phryne’s whimpers and moans spurred Jack into action, he quickly stood, held her in his arms and pressed her against the nearest wall. Quickly understanding his intent, she wrapped her legs around his waist and lowers one hand down to unfasten his trousers. She pushed his clothing down and stroked his length, feeling the rock hard heat pulse in her hand.

They looked into each other’s eyes and he pushed himself into her, forcing a gasping groan from her. His thrusts started gently, testing how much he could give her. Phryne could tell that Jack was holding back, and she wanted everything from him. “Jack”, she gasped “Faster! Harder!”. Against all his desires, he slowed his thrusts and shook his head. Frustrated, she began trying to bounce herself on him, but could find no relief as he pushed her harder against the wall. He maintained eye contact with her and tilted his head slightly. Not know exactly what he was planning, but trusting her body, mind, and pleasure to him, she nodded slightly.

Jack relaxes his stance and thrust into her as hard as he could, held himself there, and with all the authority he could muster, said simply “Beg”. If he had been any other man, she would have slapped him into next week... but he was Jack, he was her everything. To hear him so sexually demanding sent her right to the brink and she groaned “Please Jack... please. I need you so hard and so fast, please. I’ll do anything you want”. That was what he was after, and as soon as she said the words, he pounded into her ferociously. 

Sweat began heading down both their bodies, and she began trembling as her moans turned into screams. He felt her begin to spasm where they were joined and he pressed his open mouth to hers and breathed in her final shriek. With an almighty groan, he plunged into her once more and spent himself and they slowly sank to the floor. After several minutes of catching their breath, Phryne looked over to Jack and asked brightly, “So, sandwiches then?”.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Closer to the killer? Or only closer to danger...

The Lethality of a Man with a Plan

While Jack and Phryne were enjoying their dinner of mustard pickle sandwiches, Hugh Collins had taken his newest coworker, Alfie Barnhill out to a pub for a couple pints. Collins told him about his childhood, his lovely Dottie, working with the Inspector, and as the pints loosened his lips, about how everything at the station had changed when Miss Fisher arrived.

Alfie shared about growing up as the only child as a solicitor in Wodonga, a comfortable and relatively upper class; not Miss Fisher’s class, but far nice than Hugh, Dottie, and even the Inspector had experienced. His father had wanted him to follow in the family tradition of practicing law, but had been happy to see his son enforcing those laws on the streets. The pace of life in Wodonga had been slow but pleasant, not much action for a beat copper, but it gave him a nice wage to save while he lived in his parents home and helped them in their dotage. 

They had, unfortunately, died rather recently in a house fire while Alfie was on duty. He had responded and tried to make entry, but the fire had progressed to the point where it wasn’t safe. All that had been left of them were scant blackened bones and ash, but their passing gave him a fairly large inheritance and he had moved to Melbourne to make a new life.

After another pint and a laughter-filled chat about boxing, Collins and Barnhill bade each other a good evening, Hugh waved down a cab to bring him home and Alfie walked into the shadows of the night.

The morning light shone through a gap in the curtains, into Jack Robinson’s bedroom far earlier than either occupant wished. They had eventually made it to the bedroom after dinner, but had found various reasons and methods for keeping themselves busy until well past midnight. While Phryne was most certainly not a morning person, she had found that once she had awakened, she was awake for the remainder of the day. They spent the morning leisurely bathing, an effort that resulted in what appeared to be far more water on the bathroom floor than in the tub. Despite the larger size of Jack’s tub, it wasn’t designed for the type of strenuous actives that it’s occupants had participated in. 

After dressing, they had shared a light breakfast and Jack had walked Phryne to her auto, pressing her up against the driver’s door and kissing her with such heat that had he not pulled back, they would have needed to adjourn back into Jack’s home lest they be arrested for the indecent acts that raced through their minds. Upon her return home, the lady detective took notice of a cream-colored envelope on her front steps, weighted down with a rock and labeled only with the name “Fisher” scrawled across He front. 

As she entered Wardlow, she tore the envelope open, not sure what to expect, but certainly not the next days date, an address near the docks, and the words “or else”. She frowned in consternation; she didn’t respond well to threats, they were the act of an unimaginative villain who thought too highly of themself. Clearly, whomever had written this had no idea who they were dealing with. She ran upstairs, changed into a clean but elegant outfit of burgundy slacks and a sheer lace blouse with coordinating camisole and a pair of gorgeous garnet earrings and raced out to her Hispano-Suiza. 

The Inspector had been sitting at his desk at City South, contemplating the mysteries of the latest murders when he heard the roaring engine pull up outside the engine and awaited the click-clack of heels that only such an engine could portend.

He didn’t have long to wait, as Miss Fisher had run up the stairs and through his office door, thrusting the envelope and its contents across his desk.


	11. Chapter 11

The Lethality of a Man With a Plan  
Ch 11

After Miss Fisher had burst into the station and rushed into the Inspector’s office, seemingly unaware of their presence, Constables Collins and Barnhill exchanged raised eyebrows and kept an ear turned towards the open office door.   
“Meet me behind Smitty’s pub by the Victoria Docks tomorrow at 1 am or else”, Jack read aloud as Phryne stood in front of his desk, arms crossed tightly across her chest. 

Phryne knew that with the newness of their romantic relationship, she would need to tread lightly with her plan; she knew that Jack would never try to change her, but he would be worried... scared even. “I think I should go. It could be a lead on a case, even our current one”. Jack looked up from his files “It could also be a trap. In fact, I’m certain it’s a trap and I’m even more certain that you’re right- you should go”. To say she was shocked by his response would have been an understatement; she had expected some degree of push back. She narrowed her eyes at him, instantly suspicious of his motives. 

“Phryne, I do trust you, you know. The case is at a standstill and the Deputy Commissioner is concerned that if the killer strikes again, citizens will begin to panic. I’m not saying that I like this plan, and I don’t want you going without back-up. It seems that I’ve suddenly developed a craving for a pint. care to join me... say at midnight? Perhaps afterwards we could leisurely stroll down some dark alleyways to see what sort of ruffians we find?”. Jack’s mouth quirked into a half grin when he saw that his clarification had only caused her to look more shocked. 

He really was trying to be a modern, supportive partner. He knew he’d never completely overcome his fear of harm (or worse) coming to her, but caging and controlling her was something he would never want to do... could never do.Plus, he supposed, she really was handy with her pistol and the knife she invariably had on her person. If she was going to be involved in a back alley trap, at least she knew how to handle herself. If he had disagreed, no matter how vehemently, she would go alone, and this way he could at least have her back and she’d have his. His partner in every way.

Comforted by the Inspector’s response, Phryne sat herself on the edge of the desk and began perusing the open case file that he had been reviewing. The only item of note was that they were able to identify their first victim as Edward Davis, thanks to the evidence in Thompson’s bedsit and a parole officer in Albury who had an excellent memory. It seemed that Davis had an extensive history with the police there; mostly brawls and petty theft. He had recently turned up in Melbourne, looking for work. Albury was just north of Wodonga, perhaps Barnhill had run-ins with him as well? She thought it was unlikely, Barnhill would have recognized him if that had been the case. 

Feeling as though nothing further could be gained by reviewing the same file again, so she bid Jack adieu and returned to Wardlow to rest up for their planned nocturnal investigation.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is literal packing peanuts while I figure out how to close out this shebang. Not beta’d as per usual. At least we know some of their motivations, am I right?

After a deep slumber, cocooned in the luxury of her plush doona and silk sheets, Phryne awakened to the pink glow of the setting sun illuminating her boudoir. She still had several hours before she was to meet Jack at Smitty’s Pub, and she wanted to use that time wisely; she sharpened the knife that typically resided in her garter, cleaned her gold revolver and ensured that it was loaded, and then dressed in her all-black ensemble that she had dedicated nighttime investigations. 

Although investigations at night were nothing new to her and the Inspector, excitement thrummed through her veins in a way she hadn’t felt in years. This would be their first such activity as a couple and it would finally be possible to relieve the arousal she had always felt after the thrill of the chase, after all the standoffs, all the back alley brawls... perhaps he would take her in his office, the way she had always fantasized? Or maybe they wouldn’t even make it that far, and her dreams of christening the police car would come true? 

It was all so exciting, this being part of an “us”, of being “we”. She had always possessed an adventurous sexual appetite, but as most of her relationships were extremely short lived, there had been no room for planning the types of trysts that she imagined while sating her desires. She dearly hoped that this meeting would be over quickly and contained only the right kinds of danger; the kind that lit flames in her soul and soaked the more delicate parts of her anatomy. She briefly thought about relieving some of her tension on her own, but realized it would be so much more delicious later if she didn’t.

While Phryne was planning for a post-investigatory petite mort, Jack’s thoughts were straying in a decidedly more homicidal direction. Murder rarely made sense, but this current case was more perplexing than any other that he and Miss Fisher had found themselves ensnarled in. The clues they had were tiny pieces of a puzzle and none of them fit together. He hoped that the back alley meeting would at least give them something helpful, even if it was just another shard of a clue. He was sure it was a trap, but if they had the upper hand then perhaps they could at least get some information out of the contact without too much of a hassle. 

He sat at his desk and ran his fingers through his now thoroughly untidy hair while he looked at the clock. With several hours left until their “date”, he decided to return home and hopeful have a kip and a shower. Knowing that look he saw in Miss Fisher’s eyes so often after they engaged with Melbourne’s criminal element, he would need all the rest he could get. He allowed himself a brief chuckle... she probably wasn’t even aware that he knew how hot crimefighting made her. He knew that what would surprise her even more was that it had the same effect on him, he was just far better at disguising that particular set of emotions as a gruff sternness. 

The Inspector so wanted to show her all that he was unleashed; the raw power and fierce physicality that he had never had the chance to fully share with a woman. Rosie had only the briefest glimpses and what she had seen had closed off the little bit of propriety she felt their marriage still had after the war. He knew that Phryne would appreciate all that he could give her, that instead of scaring her off, it would open him up to her more. It went beyond sex, emotion, and power... it was a true sharing of self and he was more than ready to show her his hand. He stacked his files neatly on his desk and ventured home as daylight faded into pink, knowing that intrigue and mystery ruled the night


	13. Chapter 13

Jack and Phryne walked into Smitty’s, arm in arm. It wasn’t the classiest venue of its kind; catering mostly to wharfies, punters, and plenty of those that couldn’t quite find balance after the war. It was barely lit enough to navigate the crowd and the floorboards were wet with spilled drinks and chewing tobacco remnants. The smoke and dimness cast dark and hazy shadows throughout the pub, making it near impossible to make out details of the patron’s faces. 

Jack had shed his policeman persona and dressed down that evening; gone was the three piece suit, long coat, and fedora. Instead, he donned a well worn pair of dark gray trousers, braces, and a faded blue collarless shirt, topped with a black woolen jacket that had seen better days. He wore no tie and had forgone his usual pomade, leaving his hair tousled in a way that made Phryne’s knees weak when she had opened her door to him. Although Phryne was dressed casually in her all-black ensemble, wearing no jewelry and her lips were clean of her usual bright red lipstick, there was no disguising that she was a woman of class. As they walked through the pub, they could hear conversations abruptly stopping and chairs scraping across the floorboards as their occupants turned to look at the interlopers. 

Phryne chose a table at the far end of the pub as Jack purchased them each a pint. Neither of them really enjoyed beer, but knowing that they’d need to be clear-headed later, something less potent than whiskey was called for. After Jack rejoined Phryne at their table, they casually sipped their drinks and gazed at the crowd, who had all returned to their drinking when it was clear that their arrival held no excitement. 

That is, except one man. He stood in the corner, hidden mostly in the blackness of the shadows. Phryne could see that he appeared to be watching them. Not wanting do draw any additional attention, she reached across the table and gently caressed Jack’s hand. As he looked at her, she flicked her eyes towards their watcher and raised one eyebrow. With the well-honed skills of a longtime investigator (as well as being the one person who was fluent in Miss Fisher’s nonverbal communication), The Inspector rolled his head, as if to relieve an aching neck, while casually glancing at the darkened corner. His gaze returned to hers and he nodded almost imperceptibly. 

As their glasses neared emptying and the appointed time became closer, Phryne caught movement from the corner they have been observing. She cleared her throat to get Jack’s attention as the man quickly made his way through the pub and darted out the door. They waited a beat, so as not to be obvious of their intent and made their way out the door and into the alleyway. 

Although the pub had been dim, it took them a moment to gain their bearings. A shuffling noise drew their attention to a doorway, recessed slightly into the wall ahead and to the left. A match was struck, and the man they had been watching lit a cigarette. The flame from the match head illuminated the stranger’s face and his calloused hands, reflecting off a pair of silver and opal cuff links.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today marks the one month lunarversary of this fic! Thanks for sticking with it, readers!

The man in the darkened doorway took a puff of his cigarette and stepped forward towards the two detectives. “Good, you’re here”, he grunted at them. Phryne looked at Jack first, and then at the stranger and asked “Why? Why kill these men? Was it over money? Wa-“ the man held a hand up and interrupted. “MEN? There was only the one. He gave me orders, said I’d be helping the coppers... that he was a wanted man but they couldn’t make a clean case. Needed him out of the way, he said... said the department would pay me, but under the table. That’s why you’re here, ain’t it? He said he sent you a message, that the toff detective would give me the money”. He gestured to a cuff link “Said I could have these as a down payment”. 

Phyrne needed a moment to mull over what he had said. Payment? The Police? The only message she had received was the threatening note... Pieces of the puzzle began to slide into place. This man was a confessed killer for hire, no matter if he had been tricked into it or not. Unless he faced an exceptionally forgiving judge and retained a skillful barrister, he would likely hang. The questions now were what party had hired him and how did she and the Inspector fit into it? She calmly stepped towards him, holding out both hands as to show him that she had no ill intent. “I’m not sure who promised that I would pay you, but be assured that I was part of no such agreement.”

At her words, the atmosphere around them became charged. He snarled and lunged towards Phryne, grabbing her arms and pulling her close. He wrapped an arm around her neck, holding her in place while pulling a knife out of his jacked pocket as Jack slowly pulled out his revolver. “You better find a way to pay me, lady. I don’t care if you weren’t part of it, I know what I was promised and I’m not turning you loose until I get it”, he growled as he held the sharp blade to her face. He looked at the Inspector and shouted “Put it down! You know I’ve already killed once, I have no chance and I won’t mind sending this one to Hell first!”.

As Jack lowered his gun, he looked the man in the eye, demanding “Who was he? The man who hired you?”, not expecting the answer he received. The knife was slowly lowered from Miss Fisher’s face and pointed towards the entry of the alleyway, where a familiar figure stood, brandishing a service revolver. “Him”, said the shadowy man... he was the one.


	15. Chapter 15

Standing in civilian clothes, with his service revolving trembling in unsteady hands, was Constable Barnhill. “Sir! Don’t listen to him! He’s obviously a drunk, just rambling on and accusing the first man he sees! I w-was walking to the pub and thought I heard your voice and figured I’d investigate... it’s a good thing I did, what with Miss Fisher and that knife. Put it down, you!”. 

Inspector Robinson stood in the center of this tableau, with a clearly deranged man holding his lover at knife point and a set of very suspicious circumstances and accusations directed towards a member of the constabulary. He made a split second decision and prayed it was the right one; he raised his revolver again, only now it was pointed it at Barnhill. “Put. It. Down. Now. Constable!”. Barnhill looked shocked, “Sir! Sir, you can’t really believe what he’s saying... it’s ludicrous!”. While the Inspector and Barnhill were having their exchange, the stranger had raised the knife to Phryne’s neck and held it there, slowly increasing the pressure. As a drop of blood began traveling downwards, she gasped; catching Jack’s attention. 

With the Inspector distracted, Barnhill knocked him off balance and cocked his revolver. “Let ‘er go, mate. You’re just another drunk wharfie. Who do ya think they’ll believe, you or me?”. The hand pressing the knife to Phryne’s throat lost contact with her skin, and she took her chance. Elbowing him sharply in the gut, she used his momentary loss of breath and attention to stumble forward unsteadily, but hopefully out of his arm’s reach. 

Seeing a clear shot at his quarry, Barnhill pulled the trigger, but wether it was due to nerves or the poor technique of a constable with limited real-world experience, his aim was untrue. Just as Phryne was regaining her balance, she was forcefully knocked backwards onto the dirty ground. It brought a childhood memory to mind of when she had been playing with Janey, Guy, and Arthur in the stables and a pony had kicked her. Jack, however, had witnessed the event and knew that something much more ominous than a stable accident had occurred. 

With a roar, Jack launched himself at Barnhill, who had dropped his revolver in shock. Barely able to rein in his anger, Jack yanked his darbys from his pocket and restrained Barnhill. He turned towards Phryne and their shadowy mystery suspect just in time to see the still unnamed man running out of the far end of the alleyway. Knowing that catching him was near impossible and fearing the worst of Phryne’s condition, he scrambled onto his feet and rushed to her side.

To his great relief, she was alive and semi-conscious. Her eyes were glassy, and although her nursing skills had lain dormant for years since her time in France, she was pressing onto the gunshot wound to her abdomen firmly. Despite her war-honed intentions, copious amounts of blood still seeped freely from beneath her hands and her skin had taken on an even paler, waxy cast. “Jack!” She gasped, “I think I may be hurt!”. Despite the seriousness of the situation, the fact that she could downplay the situation gave him some semblance of hope. She may be hurt, but she was Phryne. 

The bartender from pub, having been drawn outside by the sound of nearby gunfire, took inventory of the scene and raced over to them, putting his hand on he Inspector’s shoulder. Jack’s head snapped up and distraught eyes met questioning ones. “Please” Jack pleaded “Call for an ambulance and then get a message to the City South police station. Tell them there’s been an incident involving Detective Inspector Robinson, and tell them to get here quickly. Tell them... tell them that Miss Fisher may not make it”.


	16. Chapter 16

The time Jack spent sitting in this dirty alleyway, his hands covered in blood from holding pressure to Phryne’s wound, seemed to stretch into infinity. “Time”, he thought, “I want more time with her... I need more time with her. I’m not ready to face this, she has to hold on”. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he watched her struggle for each breath. Small flecks of blood had started to stain her lips, nearly the same shade as the lipstick she almost never went without. 

Phryne was somehow still conscious, the pain dulling her other senses and slowing her thoughts. She placed her own bloodstained hands on top of Jack’s and gently squeezed. She looked into his eyes and wished she could tell him how much his friendship and love meant to her. How she felt when she was with him was unlike anything else, and how all she wanted in the world was more time. She could bear a lifetime of this pain if it meant holding on just a little longer. She wanted so badly to say something... anything to let him know, but as each breath was a losing battle, speech would be an impossible effort. 

The eternity that they existed in was truly only minutes long, when Collins had received the bartender’s call, he had rang for reinforcements and sped to the scene at a rate that would have shocked even Miss Fisher. His night shifts had become more infrequent, but he was glad to have been on duty; there was no other constable he could imagine handling this. If the worst happened, at least he would know that he was there and that they tried their damndest. As he stepped out of the police car, he came upon a heart-wrenching site; Miss Fisher, lying in a pool of blood, unmoving. The Inspector kneeling over her, hands to her abdomen, his shoulders wracked with sobs. Collins feared that he was too late, that she was gone. What would he tell Dottie? Even worse, what about Jane? What about the Inspector? He was unsure exactly what they considered themselves, but he knew that whatever it was, it was rare and beautiful. 

He was prepared to remove his helmet and offer to call the morgue when Miss Fisher took a shallow, shuddering breath and groaned. Her eyes fluttered open slightly and widened when she recognized Hugh. The Inspector turned towards Collins and the younger man was paralyzed by the Inspector’s shattered countenance. His attention was suddenly drawn elsewhere by movement behind him as Constable Barnhill attempted to change positions with his hands cuffed behind him. The Inspector, seeing where Collins attention had turned to, offered only “Lock him up, I’ll file the report later” and returned his focus to Miss Fisher. The high-pitched sound of a lone ambulance siren cut through the night and the specter of hope appeared. 

After the ambulance arrived, Miss Fisher was lifted onto a stretcher as carefully as the attendants could manage, and with all present parties holding their breath. Collins struggled to raise Barnhill to his feet; the larger man not being in an especially helpful mindset. Thankfully, their back-up had arrived and two additional constables, both frequent recipients of the treats Miss Fisher was so generous with, assisted Collins with lifting the errant officer and loading into the back of the squad . 

Two very different vehicles left the scene at the same time: one headed to the cells of City South, containing a fallen man. An upholder of the law, descended into the very thing he was meant to fight. The other, containing two lovers so very close to losing one another. A thin, frayed thread of life held Phyrne to this realm as they raced to the hospital.


	17. Chapter 17

Their ride to the hospital was harrowing, each breath that Phryne struggled through seemed as through it might be her last. Her level of consciousness was waning, her eyes open the merest sliver, and the groans of pain becoming less and less frequent; a blessing really, as the attendants had not wanted to risk giving her morphine.

Waiting just outside the hospital was a team of doctors, nurses, and orderlies with Elizabeth Macmillan in front. As their fragile patient was unloaded, Mac rushed to her side, a quiet sob of “Oh Phryne, no” escaping her lips before she could stop herself. She had a reputation of staying cool and collected even when faced with insurmountable chaos, and her staff knew that if she was this shaken over a patient, something was very clearly wrong. 

As the orderlies rushed Phryne inside, Mac grabbed the Inspector’s sleeve and whispered “I want you to be prepared, this doesn’t look good. I can’t tell you what the odds are, but someone should inform Mrs Stanley and Phryne’s staff. Miss Williams is of a godly persuasion and frankly we’ll need all the prayers we can get. I need to get into the operating theater, I need to make sure we do everything we can. I promise you Inspector, we’re not giving up without a fight”. 

Jack wanted nothing more than to collapse into one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, but as he looked at his hands that were caked with her blood, he realized that other tasks would need to come first. After scrubbing his hands raw, he made his way to the telephone and rang Mrs Stanley’s residence. Several rings passed before her housekeeper picked up and sleepily answered. When Jack demanded to speak with the lady of the house, any tiredness she felt instantly dissipated and she placed the handset on the table and ran to awaken the elderly woman. 

Prudence Stanley had experienced a life of equal amounts of fortune and tragedy. The babe she had lost before it took a single breath, her poor sweet Arthur; born with such troubles and then taken away much too soon, the loss of little Janey, that awful mine disaster, and the death of her dear Edward. She trembled with anxiety as she approached the telephone. All her housekeeper had said was “A police Inspector called, he said it’s an emergency”. She knew that Phryne’s Inspector wouldn’t trouble her at such an hour unless it was absolutely necessary, so she feared what news this call may bear. Her concerns were well placed, and despite the call lasting several minutes, the only words Prudence could recall as she hung up the phone were “Phryne”, “hospital”, and “shot”. She called for her housekeeper to ready her car and raced to dress herself.

Mr Butler answered the telephone at Wardlow with none of the tiredness that the Inspector had been greeted with when calling the Stanley residence. He listened to the Inspector’s description of the events and agreed that he would wake Miss Williams immediately and after dressing, they would leave for the hospital. After hanging up the phone, Mr Butler took a very rare moment to blink back tears that were forming, took a deep breath, on knocked on Dot’s door. 

Miss Dorothy Williams was a kind, gentle soul. Not a woman prone to anger, never wishing harm on another, and certainly not the sort to curse. However, Mr Butler knew how much she adored Miss Fisher, so when she stood in her flannel nightgown and loudly declared that “I hope the Inspector caught him and I hope he wasn’t gentle about it! He can go straight to Hell for hurting Miss Phryne!”, he wasn’t at all surprised. All he could do was pat her shoulder and reply “I couldn’t agree more, Dorothy”.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, fine... enough toying with your emotions.

City South Police Station had seen its share of disorder and chaos, however the jailing of one of its own under such strange circumstances was beyond the pale. Oncoming constables gawked as Barnhill was escorted, handcuffed, to the cells by Collins and two fellow constables actively restraining him. Their arrestee, previously known to the constabulary as a jovial fellow, now had a crazed look in his eyes and fought against his keepers with a strength none of the assembled officers expected. Eventually, they were able to lock Barnhill behind the iron bars and Hugh readied to leave, hoping that the hospital had things well under control but worrying over what he would find when he arrived, just the same.

Prudence Stanley was sure that if Phryne’s surgery did not end soon, the Inspector would surely wear a rut into the wood floors of the hospital waiting room. She dabbed her eyes and wondered back, questioning when it was that she had stopped considering him as just a man Phyrne attached herself to and when he became “Phryne’s Inspector” and a member of Prudence’s extended family. She may be a blustery old soul, and dependent on the facade of propriety to navigate the world of the well-bred and monied, but Prudence gave an extraordinary amount of leeway to those she loved. She may insist verbally that Phryne’s relationship with the Inspector was “improper”, but she would truly do anything to ensure their happiness. Was this a situation where a generous donation would assist in Phryne’s treatment and recovery here? She would have to bring her check book to the Director of the Hospital’s office when he arrived... it couldn’t hurt, and philanthropy was a joy of Prudence’s, even if it didn’t end up greasing wheels. 

Four hours after Phryne had been rushed into surgery, Elizabeth Macmillan entered the waiting room. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she was clearly exhausted. She looked at the Inspector and gestured towards the empty chair next to Mrs Stanley. Dot placed her rosary in her lap and grasped Hugh’s hand and Mr Butler closed the book he had been reading and removed his glasses, tucking them into his jacket pocket carefully. Jack collapsed into the offered chair with no grace and roughly ran his hands through his hair. He took a deep, shuddering breath and looked Mac in the eye and simply said “Please”. 

Mac stood in front of Phryne’s cobbled-together family, of which she was also a proud member of, and tried to hold herself together long enough to tell them... long enough to get into her dark office and pull the whiskey out of her file cabinet and plop down into her office chair. “First of all, she is alive. She shouldn’t be; she lost so much blood and her injuries were not something I would typically expect someone to survive, but she’s made it this far and if anyone can recover from this, I think we all know she can”. Almost perfectly in unison, the entire group released the breaths they had been holding and Dot began crying in relief. “The bullet caused injuries to multiple organs; I had to remove her spleen and a small section of her liver. There was also part of a rib that was shattered and punctured a lung. We’ve patched her up to the best of our abilities. I’m not saying she’ll be fine, she has a very long road and recovery will be challenging, but she’s the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. Infection is the greatest risk for now, and we’ll cross any other bridges when we reach them”. 

Jack cleared his throat “Can we” he shuddered through a sob “Can we see her? I believe you, but I need to make sure”. Mac hadn’t realized until their arrival in the back of an ambulance exactly how far the Inspector had fallen for her dearest friend. As a result of a drunken confession from said friend a few weeks ago, she knew that Phryne was madly in love with him and that they had been in an awkward limbo, both afraid to take the first step. Clearly something had very recently changed between them. 

“I can take Miss Williams, Constable Collins, and Mr Butler for only a minute, but the Inspector and Mrs Stanley may stay as long as they wish”. Prudence let a small hidden smile light upon her lips, my... things really were quite serious between her niece and the Inspector and the Doctor seemed to be privy to this knowledge as well. She returned her face to a more dour expression and nodded to Dr Macmillan. Mac had been serious about a very brief peek for the first three; Phryne’s staff and Collins had just enough time to see that she was breathing before they were ushered back out and left the hospital to return to their homes.

Mrs Stanley and the Inspector stood, both looking far braver than either felt. As they reached the doorway to her private room, Jack gazed at Phryne for the first time since the ambulance and was immediately overwhelmed. He became unsteady on his feet and grasped the doorframe with one hand and covered his mouth with the other. Prudence took note of his condition and patted his back softly. “Come now, Inspector... there’s a nice chair right over there. Go sit and hold her hand, it will be good for you both”. She grabbed his elbow and walked him over to the bed, supporting him both emotionally and physically, and settled him into the chair. 

As she sat in a chair nearer to the door, she caught sight of him holding a small pale hand in his own and bringing it to his lips, tears running down his face. “Oh Phryne”, he whispered, “I thought I’d lost you. Darling, I love you. I love you so much. You rest and I’ll be here waiting for you, for as long as it takes”. Prudence knew that emotions ran deep in men like the Inspector, but to hear him say those words, and to know that her niece felt the same way... she dabbed at her eyes again, but this time because of the warmth and hope she felt deep in her heart.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bonus for you all, as it’s my weekend off and I’m avoiding cleaning the house!

Phryne awoke to the smell of antiseptic and the sound of quiet conversation. Her eyelids were far too heavy to open, but a dull, aching pain in her abdomen couldn’t be ignored for much longer. She decided to focus her attention on the voices around her, perhaps it could clue her into what circumstances she had awoken in and would provide a distraction from the pain.

A familiar rumble nearby had begun speaking “So, after some time as a constable, I was shipped off to France. My fluency in German, thanks to my grandmother, afforded me a position working with prisoners. I spent more than enough time in the trenches, but transporting and interrogating prisoners was a welcome reprieve from the bloodshed. Tea, Mrs Stanley?”. A reply in an equally familiar voice came from a short distance away “You must call me Prudence, Jack. See? I’ve done as you asked and called you by your given name. If it’s uncomfortable for you, perhaps do as dear Phryne does and call me “Aunt P”. And yes, with just a touch of cream, please”. A gentle chuckle was the only reply to her Aunt’s request. 

A period of comfortable silence followed, interrupted by the sound of quiet sips. Gradually, what had started as a dull ache began to sharpen and the gentle feeling of blissful semi-consciousness dissolved. Phryne became aware of a large, warm hand holding hers and she squeezed it, trying to force her mouth to stay closed against the sudden onslaught of pained moans that threatened to escape her. The sound of a wooden chair scraping against the floor next to her alerted her to the attention of her angel, her Jack.

“Phryne. Can you hear me? Darling, are you in pain? Damn. Prudence, do find a nurse or Doctor for her.” The answering sound of another chair being moved and her aunt’s reply of “Of course, dear” gave Phryne a momentary distraction from the pain that was suddenly starting to overwhelm her. Her unfocused eyes fluttered open and gazed upon the face of Jack Robinson hovering over her. Several days worth of stubble covered his face and his hair was entirely free of pomade. He wore no tie, and the first two buttons of his shirt were undone. “Jaaaack” she moaned, squeezing his hand even harder. “What... happ... happened? So much... pain”. 

Jack pressed his forehead against hers and she inhaled deeply. While not as strong as she was accustomed to, his scent grounded her and she gazed at him with slightly clearer eyes. As he gently stroked her hair, he explained about the shooting, about Barnhill’s arrest and the terrifying journey to the hospital. About how much they all loved her, and how “Aunt Prudence” had rarely left her side. Looking at Jack, she saw tears gathered in his eyes as he quickly dropped his head to give her a gentle kiss on her lips. 

Mac rushed into the room, bearing a syringe of morphine. As she injected her dearest friend, Jack grasped her hands and murmured “I love you Phryne, don’t be afraid. We’re all here for you. Rest, darling... we’ll speak again soon”. She struggled to open her eyes again, fighting against the opiate that was quickly taking over her consciousness. “Jack” she whispered, unsure if she had actually spoken, but his answering glance confirmed that she had. “Jack, I love you so much” she rasped as she closed her eyes again, suddenly feeling as if her body was leaden. “Please, marry...”. A cut off sob came from Jack, somewhere so very close and then an answering mutter from Mac of “Probably the morphine talking” floated over her like a cloud musical notes in the sky. 

Summoning all her strength to overcome this fuzzy feeling of swimming in an ocean of stars, warmth and weightlessness, spinning into infinity, she whispered “No. It’s not”. She felt one more squeeze from that wonderful large hand and she surrendered to the sensations that flowed through her, until everything faded to a quiet restful black. 

The next time she awoke, Jack’s hand was still entwined in hers, his head pillowed on his other arm on her hospital bed as he gently snored. Comforted by his presence, she fell back asleep, this time blissfully unaided.


	20. Chapter 20

When Mac had explained to her how difficult recovery would be, Phryne hadn’t believed her at first. She was accustomed to the world bending to meet her, and not the other way around... but bend she had to. Wanting to help with the case, even while in the hospital, by the fourth day she had already started refusing the morphine. Every dose had been delightful ride, but it left her with muddled thoughts and uncooperative extremities.

She had already paged through two books of mugshots that Jack had brought to her from City South after she demanded that he return to Wardlow for a hot meal and a hotter bath. Being that Jack now has a personal stake in the case, he was removed from questioning their suspect and so had been keeping busy thanks to the large stack of paperwork that said case had created. “The case” she thought ruefully, “I went from solving the case to become another victim in it”. As she shook her head, she turned another page, hoping for a glimpse of a face she had only seen in the dark shadows of an alleyway. 

Jack sighed to himself, alone in his office at City South. There was nothing he wanted more than to be in the company of the woman, who by all rights, should be perched on the vacant corner of his desk. Phryne has made it clear that she didn’t want things to come to a standstill because she was “slightly incapable” of assisting him at the station. He chuckled lightly; leave it to her to make a near-fatal experience sound like sprained ankle. He hoped that Deputy Commissioner Jameson was having a more fruitful interrogation of Barnhill than in the previous days. 

For a man whom his peers had considered to be helpful and dependable, although perhaps a touch dull, Barnhill was proving himself to be a cold and calculating foe. Despite spending his days and nights in a dark, dank cell, he had refused to speak about the case. The Deputy Commissioner had tried every tactic in his power; deals, threats, running hot and cold with another investigator, and every attempt was met with anger and a refusal to participate in further questioning. Hours passed slowly and quietly, the Inspector reviewing and signing documents and organizing photographs from the crime scenes. 

His heart stopped briefly when he reached the newest set of photographs. The alleyway looked far less sinister in the light of day, but he knew that the dark stains on the pavement and bricks was in reality a shade of dark red that could never truly translate into the sepia tones that he held in his hand. Memories raced through his mind, of the thunderous sound of the gunshot, of her pain, of scrubbing her blood off his hands, of fear... he took a deep breath and reminded himself that despite everything, she had survived. He put the blasted photographs in a manilla envelope and returned to the tediousness of his paperwork. 

The silence he worked in was suddenly broken by a knock on the glass of his office door, followed by the entry of the Deputy Commissioner. The man had a worrisome look of defeat that the Inspector had never seen before, and it only became more concerning when his superior slumped into a chair. “Sir?” he questioned. Jameson studied the Inspector for a moment and then spoke “He finally said he’d talk, but only with you and her”.

At almost that same moment, Phryne turned another page and saw the face she had been looking for. It was so clear, she could almost feel his breath against her cheek and his threats in her ear, the droplet of blood on her neck. “Clive Parks”, she whispered.


	21. Chapter 21

Jack had been looking forward to his visit with Phryne after work, at least until the Deputy Commissioner had come into his office. An agreement had been made between Barnhill, the Deputy Commissioner, and the Commissioner, despite the Inspector’s protestations, that there would be no further questioning until Miss Fisher was released from the hospital, and only then would he speak on the record. 

Despite his knowledge that her entire constitution was iron-strong, Jack was worried; this was the first time she had truly faced death and on top of that, had only barely managed to escape its clutches. Now, what? They’d be launching her headfirst back into the fray. He had seen her face Murdoch Foyle and René Dubois and win, even after both men had left her with untold emotional scars. He had held her hand as she wept over her sister’s bones and had seen her as a heroic mermaid, escaping the clutches of a murderess. But was this too much? The final straw? He wouldn’t know until he faced her and informed her of the new plan.

He watched her from the doorway of her private hospital room (definitely paid for with a donation from “The P Stanley Foundation”). Her left index finger to her lips as her right frantically wrote notes into a small pad that looked suspiciously similar to those provided to officers of the State of Victoria. She wore silk pajamas that were obviously not hospital issued and drank from a tea cup that he was fairly certain had come from the Wardlow kitchen. His gentle rapping on the doorframe caught her attention, shock alighting into a broad smile when she had identified the intruder. “Jack, darling!” she cried out as he approached and she enveloped him into a hug, from which she slowly retreated as she felt the stiffness in his limbs and the downward turn his lips had taken. “Ever the detective” he thought as he grasped her hands and looked into her sea glass colored eyes. 

“Jack?” She questioned, her mind and body clearer than it had been before the incident (her thoughts), before he had failed to protect her (his thoughts). His lips gently slid across hers in a movement that could only generously be called a kiss. He sat on the edge of the bed, still holding her hands in his, “Phryne, Barnhill has decided to talk, I think to confess to everything”. The unspoken “but” hanging between them like an albatross across their shoulders. 

She leaned closer to him, knowing that whatever he had come to tell her, had rattled him to the core. “Phryne... Love... Barnhill is willing to talk, but only to us. The two of us. Russell Street is willing to wait until you’ve been released, but not any later. I tried, I tried to tell them that this was a terrible idea. I know you don’t need me protecting you, but... I just don’t know what to do, how to help you”. Phryne released a long sigh, and with the sparkle of held back tears in her eyes said “We need to do what we do best, what we’ve always done. We’re going to see this case through to the end”.


	22. Chapter 22

Sand in an hourglass always seemed to pour slower when one paid attention, as watched kettles never boiled. Phryne tried to reconcile those thoughts with the fact that her recovery sped up when she had Barnhill’s dreaded questioning awaiting her. Her surgical incisions, while marring her previously smooth abdomen, had healed “beautifully” according to the surgical team, Mac nodding along with their assessment.

Her pain, reduced to only a sharp twinge when she moved suddenly, was manageable without even an aspirin. Her release date from the hospital sprinted towards her, until all too suddenly it was there. With Phryne in a wicker wheelchair, Mac escorted her to the Hispano parked on the curb, which Jack had thoughtfully driven to pick her up in. Her arms were loaded with floral bouquets and cards from so many admirers, even the buttery soft red throw that Dot had knitted when Phryne’s condition had been so precarious. 

The ride to Wardlow was silent, Jack grasping her hand, steadying her and chasing anxieties away. They would have the rest of that day to be together before real life intervened, dragging them to City South and thrusting them in front of the man who had caused them so much strife. Phryne decided that for tonight, she would banish Barnhill from her mind and focus only on herself and Jack.

Waiting in front of Wardlow was Mr Butler, Dot, Burt, and Cec; to Jack it was reminiscent of their arrival to the hospital, almost a perfect bookend to the events. Jack and Phryne walked up the stairs, elbow in elbow, and settled themselves in the parlor. They enjoyed the evening as they had so many others, with cocktails in hand in front of the draught board, while the alluring smells of Mr Butler’s cooking wafted into the parlor. They dined on baked chicken and crisp haricot verts almondine, followed by sweet strawberries and freshly whipped cream, and an even sweeter dessert wine. 

As they exited the dining room, Jack presumed to return to the parlor, Phryne stopped at the base of the stairway and tilted her head upwards, her eyes slowly following the stairs trajectory before returning to meet Jack’s in a mischievous glance. Jack answered with an equally tilted head and one raised eyebrow, and quietly responded to her unspoken request “Phryne, there’s nothing that I would like more, but are you sure? You’ve only just been released and Mac would have us both strung up by our toes if anything happened. I, for one would like to remain in her good graces”. 

Phryne chuckled and slowly pressed her lips to his “Darling, do you think I would make a romantic overture without clearing it with Mac? As long as we’re slow...” her tongue slowly ran across his lips “and gentle...” her teeth gripped his lower lip “they’re shouldn’t be any problems”. Their mouths opened to each other and tongues dueled for entry and they parted, gasping for air. “That shouldn’t be too hard... would it, Jack?” The fingernails of her left hand lightly scraped the back of his neck while her right hand trailed down his abdomen, then slowly stroked his rapidly hardening length. 

All Jack could do was groan in response before gently urging her body towards the stairs.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little birdie said you all might like something dirty!

Stairs... they were still on the stairs. Phryne had her back against the wall, the hem of her her chiffon dress above her hips, secured by one of Jack’s hands that was snugly held in the front of her knickers, two of his long fingers plunging into her. His lips and teeth caressed and nibbled down her neck while his other hand squeezed her breasts, teasing her nipples to attention. She assumed that her help had seen the writing on the wall and intentionally made themselves scarce, and while making love on her staircase wasn’t something she would typically shy away from, her newly repaired abdominal muscles were beginning to ache. 

“Bed, Jack!” was all she could utter between moans of pleasure. Jack slowly pulled his hand out of her knickers, his middle finger sliding wetly against her clit on its way upwards, causing a deep shudder throughout her body. He gave a final lick to her neck and then lifted his moistened fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, groaning. As Phryne resumed the journey up the stairs, she felt Jack’s fingers at her back, delicately unbuttoning her dress, the skin he was slowly exposing being delicately kissed. 

When she stepped foot into her boudoir, her dress began slipping off her shoulders and she brought her hands up towards her chest to catch it. Jack reached around her to stop her and the dress fluttered down, pooling around her feet. She gently stepped out of the dress and turned towards Jack, clothed only in a pale green camisole and knickers, trimmed in ivory lace. Phryne backed into her boudoir, her lips tantalizing Jack’s with promises of lust fulfilled. Her knees backed into the bed, causing her to softly tumble onto its plush surface, and he crawled onto the bed beside her. His hands were slow and gentle, but never stilled; stroking the smooth skin of her arms, brushing across her lips, pushing the silk camisole upwards to reveal all of her.

Phryne was not a woman ashamed of her own pleasure or of her body, however the angry pink line that bisected her torso was enough to give her pause. She needn’t have worried; as Jack stripped her of the pale green silk, the words that filled her ears were those of praise. He moaned of her bravery, of her strength, and of her beauty. The alabaster paleness delineated with deep pink, telling a story of love and adversity, of strength in the shadows.

Usually one to take charge in matters of sex, Phryne was content to be worshipped as Jack made love to her on this night. It truly was making love... it wasn’t just sex, it wasn’t a shag or a fuck. Those were all delicious, of course, but the the pure emotion that sizzled between them was a delightful way to reconnect after everything that had occurred. 

He had divested her of the camisole and began to lavish her breasts, sucking on her nipples, his teeth making contact in a way that sent electronic bolts of pleasure straight to her groin and flooding her knickers with her essence. Climaxing had always been easy for Phryne, but even she was shocked by how quickly Jack had her flying towards the precipice. Her gasps and mewls turned to sounds of protestation when he released her breasts and pulled away, but her gasping began anew as she saw the desire in his eyes. 

He slowly pulled her knickers down, moaning when he saw how drenched they were. Jack kissed down her abdomen, following a scent that he had come to adore. He began gently licking at her wet center, then focusing on sucking on her clit, her pearl of pleasure as his fingers traced her folds before plunging two of them into her. He stroked her walls, making sure to hit the spot that would make her scream until she was hoarse.

Jack edged Phryne close to the stars before bringing her back down to the Earth. Once, twice... he gazed at her and saw lust and frustration battling each other, her moaning becoming animalistic grunts. He took pity on her at last and put all of his efforts into skyrocketing her higher than ever before. She shrieked his name as her her soul flew apart in a supernova of pleasure, her core clenching his fingers tightly. Jack continued slowly stroking until she came back to herself sighed deeply. “Jack, that was... that was everything. You’re my everything”. 

She crawled on her hands and knees across the bed and began slowly undressing him; first his jacket and waistcoat, then unknotting his tie and sliding it off his neck before dropping onto the floor. Her nimble fingers began unbuttoning him at a speed he found most frustrating, a problem he overcame by grasping onto his shirt placket and ripping it open. Buttons flew onto the bedding and Phryne laughed joyously at his impatience, earning her a deep growl from Jack. He had barely unbuttoned his trousers before shoving them down, smalls and all and toeing off his shoes and socks. 

He was harder than he could ever remember being, the tip moist with the beads of liquid that resulted from his desires. He met her eyes and began stroking himself, his movement faltering when the pink tip of her tongue dipped out of his mouth to wet her lips. Unable to stay apart any longer, Jack moved to the head of the bed and sat upright, his back resting against the upholstered headboard. Reaching out, he held Phryne around the waist and pulled her towards him and onto him. She kissed him tenderly and then lowered herself onto him, feeling herself stretching with the sweet impalement. Their lips met again and tongues tangled as their hips met in a gentle rhythm. 

Knowing that she had limits that were not to be pushed, Phryne tried to restrain herself and love Jack slowly and carefully. As her body began responding to the delightful friction, blessedly free of pain, she began to lower herself onto Jack more forcefully and grinding against him before raising herself upwards again. She was content to continue her slow, but progressively less gentle pace, until she saw Jack’s head fall back and heard him groan “Ohhhhh fuuuck”. Hearing her buttoned up, respectable office of the law swear caused her center to flutter against his cock and any thoughts she had about continuing her slow ride flew out the window. With a final slow descent onto him, and a deep grind that caused jolts up pleasure to shoot up from her clit, Phryne rested her forehead against Jack’s and placed his hands on her hips. 

Any of their movements after this point could no longer be referred to as “making love”. This was certainly “fucking” and quite possibly “rutting”, her movements becoming fast and frantic, the motions guided by Jack’s hands. As she began to cry out and tremble, his grip on her tightened as he held her in place. The pulsating squeezing against his cock overwhelmed him and he spent himself deeply inside of her, crying out in relief.

Phryne felt his shoulders shudder against her and felt the warm droplets of moisture fall onto the tops of her breasts as Jack sobbed out “I thought I had lost you! I’ve never felt so terrified; not in the trenches, or when I thought you had died. You were so pale and there was so much blood, I could feel you slipping away and there was nothing I could do. I know you don’t need my protection, but I failed you. It should have been me, Phryne... it should have been me”.

She lifted his chin and kissed away his tears, murmuring her love and devotion to him. Chasing away his fears and releasing the last shreds of hopelessness and guilt that he still felt. “It’s no one’s fault but his, darling. One awful man, behind bars. We’ll make sure he can never do this again, both of us... together. We’re always so much better together. I meant what I said, you know”. Jack looked up at her, confusion written across his face. “The first time I woke up, Jack. There was so much pain, and I was so scared, but you were there. Loving me, supporting me... I’ve never felt this way before. I don’t want us to ever be apart, I want you to be the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see before I fall asleep. God, Jack... I want you to be the only man I sleep with, the only man I quarrel with. Your position doesn’t allow for that kind of misbehaving outside of a legal arrangement. Do you feel the same way, Jack? Do you know what I’m saying? I’m doing this all wrong, aren-“. 

Jack cut her off with a kiss. “Yes. I do. I always will. If you’re certain, then I am too. I’ve said I would never try to cage you, but perhaps we can fly together? Us two lovebirds?”. Unbidden tears came to her eyes and she whispered “Ask me, Jack?”. His lips turned up into the sly smile she was so fond of “I intend to, Phryne, but first I need a ring. Luckily, I happen to have recently come into acquaintance with a wonderful jeweler”.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the penultimate chapter! Questions answered, cases solved... but not everything has quite been addressed

Dawn came all too soon for the occupants slumbering inside Wardlow’s large master suite. It was with a sense of foreboding that Phryne opened her eyes and turned to her side, where Jack should be slumbering but only rumpled covers remained. Instead, she saw him sitting on her vanity chair, facing the window, and head in hands. 

“Jack?” She whispered, not wanting to startle him from whatever was occupying his mind. “Darling? Are you alright?”. At first, he offered no response, only rubbed his face and stood, his pajama pants slung low on his hips and his firm chest shuddering with a sign. “I don’t want to put you through this, Phryne. You’ve been put in an untenable position, and it’s... it’s not fair. I don’t doubt your skills, I doubt my ability to stand by and listen to him describe everything, having to restrain myself”. Phryne strokes his cheek, her warm fingers bringing life back into him “You know we need to know why Barnhill did this. He wants us fail, he wants to see us plummet from the sunlight and into the dark like Icarus. Letting him win would be letting a piece of us melt away, we can’t let him win. We can get through today, together. We’ll face this and whatever else comes head on”. Jack’s lips met hers in a tender kiss and as he turned to enter the en suite, he chuckled “I should have know better that to doubt your powers of persuasion”.

Their arrival at City South was met with little ceremony; Hugh Collins and Deputy Commissioner Jameson stood behind the counter and looked up from a stack of papers when they heard the echoing of familiar high heels walking up the steps. Pensive expressions and a brief smile were all that was offered by the two gentlemen before they were led to the vacant interview room. Jameson cleared his throat “I just want to thank you, Miss Fisher... I know this can’t be an easy situation for you, but it’s vital that we get Barnhill’s confession if we have any hope of sending him to the noose”.

Phryne could only offer a nod of her head in his direction, her mouth suddenly too dry to speak and her quick mind failing to form a response. Noting the tension that had suddenly come over her, Jack requested a few minutes alone before beginning the questioning. After Jameson left, shutting the door behind him, Jack turned towards Phryne and held her hands in his, stroking gently with his thumbs. “What can I do? How can I help you?”. Phryne met his gaze, set her jaw, and replied “Bring him in”, her inner battle ready to move outward.

Barnhill was brought in, his hands cuffed behind his back, quiet but with a cold stare that could have froze even the most hardened detective. Collins assisted his former peer into the chair across the table from the Inspector and Miss Fisher, unsure of where to look or if it was appropriate to say anything. He quietly cleared his throat and raised eyebrows at the Inspector before leaving the room and closing the door, the three inhabitants quietly analyzing each other. 

Barnhill leaned forward as much as his restraints would allow him and started their job for them “You want to know about it, eh? Why I did what I did? I didn’t mean to hurt you miss... you were collateral damage”. Not leaving time for either detective to form a question, he continued, “I wasn’t always like this. I was a good copper. I could be counted on, I was honest and I worked hard. But I was always “Mr and Mrs Barnhill’s little Alfie”. Even after they died! Can you imagine what that does to a grown man?! No one saw me for what I was or what I could be. No woman would step out with me because of my mother’s apron strings... she wasn’t even alive, and she still controlled me! I had to leave, I had to make a name for myself, but look at me? I’m old. I’m ugly. Even moving to Melbourne wasn’t going to change anything, I’d still just be another copper on the beat. I had to make my own future. I had enough money from the will, I had contacts from Wodonga... you can do almost anything if you flash a shiny coin at a petty criminal”. 

The Inspector held up a hand to stop the rambling confession. “I’m not following. What did you think would happen? You would create a case and then solve it? Become invaluable?”. Barnhill chuckled at that, “No Inspector sir, so much more than that. I planned the crimes, yes. Something just interesting enough to get you both involved, but not enough to get the whole of Victoria involved. I sent you the note to meet Parks in the alley and I was gonna run in and knock him off. Save you both, become a big hero. Front page news, it woulda been incredible. All’s that happened to turn everything over was running a single minute late. A minute!”

Phryne interjected “Clive Parks? Where did you find him?”  
“Drunk in that same alley if you believe it. For all I know, he lives at the pub and the alley behind it. He was more than willing to help a copper out when I told him we had a man who had been giving the local kiddies... trouble, but didn’t have any evidence to take him in. No one wants a man like that around, eh? It’s not true of course, Thompson was a fine man. A bit of a drunk and easily led, like the others, but he was alright for the right money. If Clive hadn’t been such a greedy bastard and taken the cuff links, you woulda never figured it out. Now, let me tell you, convincing Davis to meet Thompson in that alleyway was a bit of trickery. Davis didn’t trust me after his bust in Albury, but when I saw him walking down the street in Melbourne on the very day I arrived? That’s a bit of serendipity I wasn’t going to miss. I told him I could have his old record expunged... You know that fool wanted to enlist? Not even a war going on. They wouldn’t let him in of course, but for a spare bob he was willing to stand in that alley. Turns out he didn’t have to go to war to get killed, eh?”

With a full confession from their former compatriot and now thoroughly disgusted, Inspector Robinson and Miss Fisher stood and turned to leave, the latter turning towards him just long enough to say “You may have set out to be famous, but you’ll have to settle for “Infamous” instead”. The door closed, leaving the fallen and deeply misguided man to contemplate his fate.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it!

Jack-“  
“Phryne, no”  
“But it’s been so long”  
“Again, no.”  
“Jaaaack”  
“You’ve barely healed. The last thing we need is for you to be speeding around and crash the car. I will drive to your aunt’s”. Phryne rolled her eyes but offered no further argument.

Prudence Stanley loved to host a party, and this one would be especially grand. The recovery of her niece, alive and whole, and so very much in love, was the perfect reason to serve a sumptuous meal prepared by her own cook with Mr Butler’s assistance, followed by dancing and cocktails. Perhaps this evening there would even be more reason to celebrate. The very thought made her as giddy as a schoolgirl! She could barely suppress the giggle that threatened to bubble out of her as she arranged the floral centerpieces with Dorothy. 

After a leisurely bath and donning a new deep red beaded dress, Phryne carefully applied her lipstick and smoothed her hair. Smiling at Jack’s mostly-dressed reflection in the mirror, she smoldered “Well don’t you look delicious, Inspector. You’re lucky that we have somewhere to be, or I would be forced to undo all your very hard work. I am glad to see you haven’t finished dressing though, I bought you a little something when Dot and I were out yesterday”. She pulled a long box from her vanity drawer and handed it to Jack. He lifted the lid and revealed a beautiful black and white tie with red swirls that complemented her dress. “Now come here darling, so I can sort you out”. Always obliging, Jack smirked and handed her the tie so she could get to work. 

After becoming Phryne’s de facto chauffeur during her recovery, Jack began to understand her love of driving. The wind in his hair and the sun shining as the automobile smoothly handled curves and hills was something that the boxy police cars just couldn’t offer. He had to admit, there had been a handful of times in the last few weeks where his speed may have slightly exceeded the legal limit. He opened Phryne’s car door for her, and as he held her hand to assist her in, he pondered just how important this particular drive would be. 

As they drove from the city proper and into the more rural environs where her aunt resided, the bustling noise of Melbourne dissipated and Phryne became aware of a strange sound coming from her auto. It was very quiet and hard to hear over the roar of the engine, but there was a definite rattling coming from near to where she was sitting. “Jack, do you hear that? It sounds like something came loose. Pull over up ahead so I can have a look”. As he pulled to the side and the engine when quiet, the rattling continued momentarily and she was able to pinpoint where it was coming from. “Well that’s strange, it sounds like it’s coming from the glove box. As she opened the door to the small compartment, several glass marbles rolled out and onto the floor of the car, scattering. “What on earth?” She questioned as she glanced at Jack, his only response being a small shrug. She reached in and pulled out several more marbles and a small velvet box, releasing a small gasp when she realized what it was. 

Jack slowly pulled the box out of her hands and opened it to reveal a gorgeous platinum ring. The center stone was a black diamond, surrounded by many smaller white diamonds. Tears filled her eyes as Jack pulled the ring out of the box and grasped her left hand. “I know this is something that you said you wanted, but I want to make sure... will you be my wife? It’s ok if you say no, or... or if you have to think about it. I know you’ve always said you weren’t the marrying kind, until... until us. It doesn’t have to mean anything, Phryne, it can just be a ring, just a gif-“. His long, rambling proposal was cut off by the pressure of her lips on his. “Jack, stop talking. I know that I never wanted to marry, to be in love... to be with only one man. That was before I fell in love with you, darling. I can’t imagine going on through life without you by my side. I want this so very much, I want it to mean everything”. 

He slid the ring onto her finger and then restarted the car “Your aunt will be thrilled to turn this into an engagement party, the marbles were her idea! I know you love your car and can’t leave a mystery unsolved, and Arthur left behind so many marbles... we thought they would make enough of a racket to get your attention, and make Arthur part of it too, I know how much you miss him”. Phryne chuckled as she wiped away a single tear that had fallen. When had her aunt become such a soft-hearted woman? When had Jack become a prankster? These were mysteries she looked forward to solving, surrounded by her friends and family. Surrounded by love.


End file.
